


baby, that's a diamond

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [126]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29242308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: gabriel and aziraphale are drifting apart. they have a disagreement - but all married couples fight sometimes, don't they?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: gomens drabble hell [126]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	baby, that's a diamond

**Author's Note:**

> listened to violent by carolesdaughter one too many times,,,, this happened. also why tf does az wear that fucken ring constantly like king <3 whats up

“you're still wearing my ring?”

aziraphale pauses, his breath coming up clogged in his throat, stuck tight around a lump thick and firm as a walnut. he fiddles with the band of gold, the little trinket he’s kept close to his heart, brandished without shame for as long as he can remember. it's a sign of devotion, he thinks. a way to let gabriel know, no matter how far he strays, how deep the trench between stretches, cracked like a mountain canyon, he still promises himself to heaven. he’s loyal, he’ll stay within arm's reach until it's clear gabriel has no intention of ever reaching out for him again. 

that day feels like it's getting closer every decade now. aziraphale isn’t sure how to undo this gradual decay, this curse of time and distance. but it isn't gabriel’s fault, he's sure of that. no matter what's to blame, even if it's himself, his own foolish, hedonistic, _unrestrained_ nature, he’ll never deal gabriel a load so heavy as responsibility. 

he blinks, once, twice, and he's hyperaware of every eyelash tickling his skin, every twitch and fidget he can't control. gabriel’s frown deepens. he holds his hand out, fingers straight and palm flat. it's not a question - it's a demand. 

“give it to me.” 

gabriel’s eyes are cold and quiet, like a room filled with unsettling vacancy, like coming home to nothing when there ought to be a great deal of _something._ aziraphale grasps his hand to his chest, perhaps a little too protectively. he huddles in on himself, and tries to burn something equally fierce out of his frozen, frigid voice when he replies, “no.”

gabriel’s brow raises. his lips go flat, twisting into an unnaturally straight line. “no?” he asks. 

aziraphale’s confidence wavers. he’s already trickled this far into confrontation, he might as well drop the rest of the way down. his body cools with a sweat that reminds him of plunging headfirst into ice water. the churning in his stomach turns to nausea climbing up his throat. he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, and carries on regardless.

“i don't want - “ he gasps mid-sentence, the words shuddering like air through a ceiling fan. “i don't want to give you back your ring. it's not - not yours. it's mine now.”

gabriel doesn't say anything. somehow, that's worse than the yelling, or the screaming, or the teeth-bitten insults that come out violent red and flaming. aziraphale can’t stand when he's silent. it always means he's contemplating his next move, deciding a proper punishment. and, perhaps, just perhaps, he likes to make aziraphale _suffer_ through the wait for it.

he's so busy waiting, he doesn't have time to react when gabriel’s hand closes over the top of his head, and his faces comes cracking down against the hard metal desk. his body slumps forwards, and he ends up curling in on himself on crisp, clean, sterile floor panels, his eyes stinging from the white lights reflected in its polish. his nose is aching, and he swipes with the back of his hand to check for blood - a well-practiced motion. there's nothing spilling yet, but he's bitten a welt into his lower lip, his teeth seeking out safety in any mutilated cavern they could find. his temple is bruised and bloodied, he can tell from the red streaks across the floor. still, when he manages to sit up, gabriel is gathering him into his arms, and kissing at the tender flesh, and _oh,_ he's full of so many apologies.

“my sunshine, my love, loveheart,” he croons over aziraphale, his breath too hot, sickly-sweet. “i’m so sorry, darling. i let my temper get the best of me again. you know i wouldn't mean to hurt you, you know it just gets so hard to _control_ myself when you act like that. oh, that's a dear, just like that, rest against me, let it all out.”

his hands soothe over aziraphale’s back, feeling out the unsteady rhythm of his crooked sobs. aziraphale hiccups and snivels and whimpers into gabriel’s chest, undoubtedly dirtying his fresh, tidy clothes. but it feels so good to be comforted, so kind to be held, he can't stop himself. gabriel cups his face with broad hands, and brings him in to kiss the hurt from his lips. the bruises are fading, black to purple, and purple to the sallow color of wilted, seedless dandelions. there's nothing in him that can bear another inch of pain, so aziraphale lets gabriel take it all away. that's what a good husband does, after all.

maybe, if he just learns to listen, gabriel will let him keep the ring, too.


End file.
